


Not Like the Others...

by olivemasala



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Greens Being Greens, Humor, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Nothing You Can't Handle Though, Pining, Ruined Shirts, Sexual Tension, Some angst, Teen Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Young Love, greens - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:27:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivemasala/pseuds/olivemasala
Summary: In which Butch comes to terms with his feelings for Buttercup, and Buttercup has a vendetta against all of Butch’s favorite shirts.
Relationships: Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The characters in this story are partially extensions of the More Than Human verse, and DEF extensions of @leecheedoodles on instagram, I'm in LOVE with their PPGs and RRBs!!  
> This story is about half the size of my master's thesis and took me 3% of the time I spent on it. Maybe I should just quit school and write bad fiction! Anyways, tell me what you think! Comments are always welcome:) 
> 
> P.S. Might add a lil more at the end to address some of these guys' sexual tension. We'll see!

The greens aren’t like the other puffs and ruffs. Everyone knows that, but still they need to be reminded sometimes, when they ask stupid-ass questions like, “when did you two start dating?” Or “you make such a cute couple!” Or one time (and Mitch has never really healed from the beating he got for this) “so who tops?” Butch is still haunted by that question.

But really, if they’ve said it once they’ve said it a thousand times. The greens just aren’t like that. They’re friends. Best friends. They do not kiss or snuggle up on the couch. They don’t go on dates or to dances together. They don’t buy each other gifts and they are NOT in love. They’re just greens. They connect. They get each other. That’s all.

Except lately… that hasn’t been all. Just this past Tuesday, during movie night, Buttercup fell asleep leaning on Butch’s shoulder, halfway through the movie. To be fair, it was Bubbles’ pick (Frozen) and Buttercup had been cramming for a test the night before and soccer practice had been extra tiring that day too. The crazy thing was that Butch didn’t immediately push her off his side… not even after she started drooling a little bit. What was even weirder was that he had looked down at her drooling onto his 5th favorite t-shirt and thought she looked kinda cute. Like a sleeping baby bear maybe.

In fact, even before Tuesday things were beginning to feel different. Butch bought her a Buttercupsicle last week. And it wasn’t like he just happened to come across one in his day to day. He saw Boomer find one for Bubbles and went on a 40-minute internet search to hunt down where he could find a very rare Buttercupsicle. Then he flew all the way over to Citysville to find a Powerpuff Girls themed supermarket to buy one. He even went with an insulated cooler and flew back all to give it to her before it melted. Granted, he knew it was going to be hilariously disfigured and Buttercup would hate it with a vengeance which somehow made it all worth it and distracted him from how much effort he went to… for a joke (and she had ended up smashing it into his face anyway, so the joke literally ended up on him).

And Butch can’t be the only one who’s noticed that Buttercup has gotten a little more handsy lately. Whereas before when Butch got within a yard’s distance of her, she automatically grabbed him by the arm and flung him a good 20 feet away from her, now they high-fived and touched casually on the regular. And these touches were totally different than the scuffles and rough housing they normally got into. The other day Buttercup had even placed her palm on Butch’s forehead to check if he had a fever when he said something particularly stupid in class. And sometimes… they hug. Last month after a particularly bad fight with some radioactive whosit, Butch got blasted out of the sky and when Buttercup found him slowly getting up out of the wreckage of the building he had landed in, she swooped in and hugged him. Hard. It hadn’t felt good on his bruised ribs at the time, but it always left him feeling a little warm when he thought about it.

But that kind of stuff is normal among friends, right? Friends hug. Friends fall asleep on each other’s shoulders during movie night. Friends spend hours hunting down a rare novelty popsicle for the hilarity of giving it to their friends… right? Butch is sure he’s over thinking his and Buttercup’s relationship. They’re friends! They’re greens! Greens don’t date each other!

But Butch can’t ignore how his insides burn up when he sees some random idiot hitting on Buttercup. She normally turns them all down anyway so it’s not a big deal, but the one time she went to the homecoming dance with an actual date, Butch had spent the entire night sulking and following them around to make sure no funny business took place even though he also had a date. Luckily no one had noticed… besides his date, and who really cared about her? Anyways, where was he? Right, Buttercup. His friend. His fellow green. His pal. His buddy-

“Watcha thinkin about, snails?” The puff in question asks, and Butch is abruptly brought back into reality.

“About how dumb Boomer is.” He responds without missing a beat. Boomer, sitting two feet away deems not to smack him because it might disturb Bubbles who is sitting pretty on his lap. He does pout at Butch though, which is somehow almost worse.

“Well, he IS dumber than the dumbest, if you didn’t know.” Buttercup banters back (Boomer shouts ‘hey!’ and is widely ignored), but the look on her face says she knows that Butch is putting up a front right now. If he’s not careful she’s gonna grill him about this later and he absolutely can’t have that.

“We sparring today?” He asks, (not so) subtly changing the subject. “I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass, since you drooled on my shirt last week.”

“I don’t drool. And yes, you look like you need a good ass kicking so we’re gonna spar today.” She responds evenly. Her eyes are so damn piercing, he feels like those peridot pools are literally reading his inner monologue right now.

“Good,” says Butch with a definitive nod. “At least we don’t have to watch any more of this horror show.” He gestures over to Bubbles and Boomer who are sucking face while slowly transitioning to a horizontal position on the couch. “Where’s Blossom and Brick by the way?”

“Oh, they’re doing some project for AP Biology or something. I think they’re in Mojo’s laboratory.”

“For their sake I hope they’re actually working, cause if Mojo catches them messing around in his lab again, he’s gonna flip his shit.”

“Hah. It’ll be hilarious though.” She says as she heads towards the backdoor and into the yard.

“Yeah, the way his eyes pop out of his head when he’s mad is too good.” Butch chuckles as he follows her outside.

They stretch and warm up before they start sparring. When they begin Butch is finally pulled out of his head and into the moment, trying to knock Buttercup down through whatever means necessary. This is his favorite thing about being a ruff and he silently thanks Buttercup for always being up for a fight. It’s one of the things he loves about her, and he’d probably go insane with pent up energy– wait. Did he just say he LOVES something about Buttercup?! He doesn’t LOVE Buttercup, he’s not–

WHUMP. Butch gets knocked on his back. Hard. As he’s rolling over onto his elbows and wheezing, trying to get air back into his lungs, Buttercup stands over him smirking arrogantly. “Wow,” she says. “That must be a new record. You’re losing your touch old man.”

If Butch could speak at the moment, he’d tell her that he’s technically younger than her, but he is still willing air to reinflate his insides currently. When he’s finally able to speak again he says, “I let you have that one. Let’s go again.”

He jumps back up and they resume. This time he’s not gonna get distracted again, he thinks, as her fist comes swinging towards him and he ducks under it. He sweeps his leg out under her, but she jumps up just in time to avoid getting tripped on it. He keeps the rotation going all the way around and manages to sweep her at the knees and she tumbles forward for a moment before springing off her hand, flipping up and landing on her feet again. He’s got her right where he wants her though, and he’s not gonna lose focus. As he advances on her he thinks this time he’s gonna pin her on the ground, look into those glowing peridot eyes that seem to know all of the secrets in his soul and–

BAM. He feels the bridge of his nose snap as Buttercup’s fist slams into his face. His head gets knocked back from the blow and before he can recuperate, she sends him flying into the dirt with a two-legged kick to the chest. He opens his eyes to see he’s created a small crater in the earth with his body. Buttercup floats over and sits down next to him. His nose is bleeding profusely right now, but it’ll be fine in like 20 minutes thanks to chemical X facilitated super-healing. He cups his nose and snaps his bridge back into place with a groan as she checks him over for any extreme damage. When she deems he’s fine she looks at him with her piercing gaze and says, “You’re distracted today. We’d barely even started, I wanted to really kick you into the dirt. Where is your mind?”

Butch opts to ignore her question and pointedly gestures to the crater he’s sitting in. “Kicking into the dirt has definitely happened.”

“Fighting isn’t fun if your heart’s not in it. You of all people should know that, as a green. What’s up with you?” She levels him with her stare and his heart speeds up a little. He doesn’t know what he can say that’ll get her off his back, so he just lays down in his crater and looks up at the sky. He points at a cloud and says, “that one looks like a cup of butter.”

Buttercup snorts at him and lays down next to him to look at said cloud. “I must have given you a concussion because that doesn’t look like jack shit.”

“No, it definitely looks like a cup of butter, look there’s the handle and–“

He cuts off abruptly when Buttercup’s hand brushes against his. She doesn’t hold it or anything, but just leaves it there, gently touching his knuckles with the backs of her fingers.

“And there’s like a sticking out part that looks like a stick of butter. It’s a- a cup of… butter.” He finishes lamely.

For her part, Buttercup doesn’t say anything, just keeps her eyes on the sky. Butch thinks it’s probably best to shut up for a while before he says anything else really awkward and stupid. A little while passes. Butch is finally settling into his crater nicely when Buttercup speaks.

“Do you ever think about us?”

Butch chokes on his spit. “US?!” He asks, while trying to avoid coughing up a lung.

“Yeah, like the puffs and the ruffs.”

“Oh.” He’s really glad she’s looking at the sky because holy shit his face is red right now. “Sure I do, but what do you mean, specifically?”

“I mean… Boomer and Bubbles are together. Blossom and Brick are kinda together. And then there’s you and me.” At this Buttercup does turn her head to look at him. There’s something in her expression that makes Butch’s heart race and that in turn makes him panic.

“We’re greens.” He says, voice cracking only a little. “Greens are different from the rest of them. We’re not sappy blues or cute reds. We fight and eat giant burritos and fuck around. We don’t– we’re not– that’s just–“

“Yeah,” Buttercup says, suddenly looking at him hard. She seems angry at Butch for some reason. Did he say something wrong? “Yeah, we’re greens. I get it.” She pulls her hand away from his and gets up, walking back to the house. “Next time, don’t be distracted during sparring.” She snaps as she heads inside.

Butch stays in the ground until his nose stops bleeding. He can’t help but think he’s missing something as his knuckles tingle from the lost warmth of her touch.


	2. Chapter 2

The greens aren’t like the other puffs and ruffs. Butch reminds himself of this when his eyes linger too long on the swell of her breasts. On the smooth, long column of her neck. Lately on the sharp angle of her collarbones when she wears a low collared shirt. He finds that his mouth is watering a little at the idea of running his tongue over that ridge of bone and hones in on a mole just off to the right of her upper chest. He imagines swirling his tongue over it to get a taste of it and swallows the spit that’s suddenly accumulated in his mouth. His eyes travel up her neck to her sharp chin, to her pursed lips and settle on her eyes. Then he flinches a little in shock. How long has she been looking at him looking at her? Her brow is furrowed in confusion and something else, something that looks remarkably familiar and yet new on her face. They look at each other for a moment longer and then Buttercup asks, “do I have something on my shirt?”

“Oh yeah, there’s a little… right here…” He says touching the end of his index finger to the collar of her shirt, right next to that little mole. She looks down to see the mystery object and Butch flings his hand up and flicks the underside of her nose with his pointer finger. “HAH! Gotcha! Man, what are you eight to be falling for that?” He cackles at her.

Then two green bolts laser through his shirt and burn into his chest as he gasps and looks down to see two fresh eye shaped holes there. His skin is clearly visible underneath and it’s shining red. Before he can retaliate the teacher looks up and says, “Buttercup no laser eyes in class, don’t make me write you up again. Butch, sit down, no fighting in my class.”

“Sorry miss,” Buttercup calls out meekly, looking entirely too smug.

“Just you wait till after class you witch, this is my 4th favorite shirt.” He hisses at her as he drops into his seat and the teacher returns to her grading.

“I’m quaking in my boots,” she responds, the boredom in her eyes a challenge.

Ooh, he wants to kiss that stupid smirk off of her face. Wait– _kick_ , he meant kick that smirk off her face. He scrubs his hand through his hair suddenly frustrated with himself. Buttercup is his BRO, she’s hilarious and silly and a kick ass fighter. She never hesitates to throw a punch to anyone who’s asking for it and she respects people only as much as they earn it from her. She’s a green, she’s a bad ass, she’s a tomboy, she’s a terrifying, beautiful, amazing, sexy–

Butch slams his head against his desk and Buttercup’s head whips over to him as does everyone else’s in the class. After five seconds of silence, they chalk up Butch’s head banging on his desk as part of his regular shenanigans and go back to their worksheets.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She hisses once the teacher sighs and resumes checking her email.

“I’m obviously going insane Butterbutt, pay attention.” He mumbles, face still smushed against the desk.

“Clearly.”

And Butch really is going insane if his brain is anything to go by (which… it kind of exactly is). He is having completely unfriendly thoughts towards his best friend and damn if that’s not textbook insanity. Buttercup has said a million times in the past how she’s glad they’re bros and they’re greens and they’re not like their brothers and sisters. He always knew this meant that they weren’t concerned about crushes and relationships like the other puffs and ruffs. He’s definitely not among the sane if he’s entertaining the idea of Buttercup ever wanting more than that. He turns his head to look at her as she works out another question on the worksheet. He stares at how her brows knit together when she’s concentrated, his ears focused in on the steady tapping of her pencil against the paper and the bouncing of her leg as she sits, an unconscious tick to expend excess energy as she muses over the page. Of its own volition Butch’s hand reaches out and settles on her shaking leg to settle it. Before he’s even really aware of what’s going on, Buttercup asks stiffly, “what. The Fuck. Are you doing?”

Once he sees what his hand has been up to without his permission, he wants to whip it back to himself but can’t due to the sheer principal of not being a chickenshit. Butch keeps his hand right above her kneecap feeling the fabric of her cargo pants, even as his blood runs a little cold at his literal lack of self-awareness. And self-preservation for that matter: Buttercup doesn’t like to be touched without permission.

“Your leg is shaking, you spaz.” He looks into her eyes, feigning indifference at their sudden contact. She’s stilled her shaking leg now but Butch hasn’t pulled his hand off. She could easily jerk her leg away and his hand would simply fall off, but she doesn’t. She just looks at him as he keeps his hand on top of her thigh. Moments pass and no change occurs. His hand is still resting above her knee, her eyes are still trained on his face and Butch is beyond shocked she hasn’t threatened him bodily harm yet. Suddenly he can’t bear their stillness anymore, so he snakes his fingers to the side of her knee and squeezes abruptly, digging his fingers into the back of her thigh to tickle her.

Buttercup gasps, and then yanks his hand off her leg viciously. She holds him captive by his wrist with one hand and pulls his middle and ring fingers unnaturally towards the back of his hand with her other. Butch squawks in a rather undignified manner as he tries and fails to yank his hand back from hers. She keeps pressing and he is running out of ideas. He needs his hand back _fast,_ his fingers should _not_ be bending this way.

“If you wanted to hold my hand all you had to do was say so Butterboo.” He says, sounding a little wheezy from the pain.

Just like that she flings his hand out of hers and Butch presses it to his chest, massaging his fingers with his unassaulted hand. As she glares daggers at him, he can’t stop the grin from forming on his face. “You’re cute when you’re mad.” He tells her, and promptly snaps his jaw shot. He had _not_ meant to say that. He definitely hadn’t meant to say it and _mean_ it. “I mean– cute for a hag.” He amends in a panic.

“You’re such an asshole.” She seethes, though her cheeks are gently tinged with a very attractive shade of pink.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Butch says with none of his usual bite. He is absolutely going insane.


	3. Chapter 3

The greens aren’t like the other puffs and ruffs. This is Butch’s new internal mantra when he sees Buttercup come to school in a crop top. A crop top, god damn it. It’s one of those super bad ass and sexy sleeveless turtleneck crop tops too. He hides his face in his locker and reinforces the mantra as much as he can before the bell rings. “The greens aren’t like other puffs and ruffs. The greens aren’t like other puffs and ruffs. The greens­–”

“Hey snail poop.” She grunts at him. Butch jumps and his head bangs into the shelf that’s holding his books. He’s rubbing the back of his head furiously when he turns around to greet her. What he means to say is ‘waddup loser’ but what comes out is:

“You look great.” He curses himself profusely in his mind and then continues unbidden, “you’re really doing that shirt a favor.”

Buttercup’s cheeks color beautifully, but her eyes narrow in suspicion all the same. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, all accusatory.

Butch is so glad he’s a shithead and there’s a possibility that she thinks he’s not serious. He can still salvage this interaction through his head-assery. “I mean you’ve got this whole badass ninja babe thing going on. It’s fucking hot­– _I mean cool!_ It’s cool, I gotta go to class!” His cheeks burn like fire as he slams his locker shut and scurries off, only to remember that this is one of the classes they share and he’s gonna be sitting at her chemistry table in not two minutes. He goes to the bathroom instead and trudges into class after the late bell rings. Then he keeps his nose pressed into his book the whole period, while feeling Buttercup’s eyes burn (figurative) holes into his face (he has to clarify when it’s not literal because she can do that too). He continues this way for most of the morning, only getting some relief in gym when he runs laps at super speed just to distract himself with something. The non-superhero students are pretty fed up with the wind he’s making that’s blowing their hair to hell, but he can’t be bothered about that when he’s drilling his mantra into his brain. ‘Not like the other puffs and ruffs. Not like the other puffs and ruffs.’

He finally feels better when gym ends and his frustrations have been run off to an extent. He feels like he can have a normal conversation with Buttercup now. He sees her at their regular lunch table with their siblings and moves to sit with them. Right as he’s approaching the table though, Buttercup leans back and stretches, the already cropped shirt riding up, up, up over the bumps of her ribs. He can see all the taut muscles in her abdomen, that smooth, firm, incredibly strong skin. His tongue turns to cotton in his mouth when she lets out a groan and it takes everything in him not groan back at her because _this is torture_.

“Thanks for the free show,” he says, eyes still trained on her perfect belly button. He wants to swirl his tongue around in it.

Buttercup abruptly whips her arms down and pulls her shirt lower to cover more of her torso as she glares death and destruction at Butch. Instead of doing the evil things her eyes are promising she smiles dangerously and says, “you really like crop tops don’t you Butch?”

Knowing this is a trick, and yet still hypnotized by her belly button, Butch finds himself nodding. She stands up out of her seat and leans over to him, within touching distance, then her hands reach out and suddenly Butch’s shirt has been ripped clean across just under his chest. He gapes at her.

“There,” she says sweetly, dropping the scrap of fabric that used to be half of his shirt to the floor in front of him. “Now you have one of your own.”

The reds and blues stare back and forth between Buttercup and Butch, and then Mitch lets out a wolf whistle from the end of the table. “Damn, Butch, you’re kinda hot in a crop top.” And the table erupts into laughter.

“You’re fucking dead, Butters!” Butch shouts as he hurdles the table between them and they both take off running out of the cafeteria. Blossom calls after them, but everyone knows it’s in vain. They’re greens after all. They don’t listen to reason.

Butch chases Buttercup down the main hall of the school and she pivots right down the gym hallway. His sneakers squeak on the tile as he rounds the corner after her and shouts “get back here you little shit this was my 3rd favorite shirt!”

“Should’ve thought of that before you perved on me, pervert!” She calls over her shoulder as she opens up the one of the double doors and propels herself outside into the open air.

He rushes after her and leaps forward, tackling her onto the grass and then they’re wrestling on the ground. She knees at his ribs, he headbutts her and elbows into her stomach. Her fist comes up to punch him in the face and he grabs her hand around the wrist and pins it to the ground. Her other hand is trying to close around his throat, so he grabs it and pushes it to the ground too. She bucks up against him, but he’s got gravity to his advantage and she’s not going anywhere. He wants sorely to rub her face into the dirt but his hands are occupied with keeping her down at the moment. They just look at each other, breathing heavily from the exertion, but with fire in their eyes. Butch waits for her to say ‘uncle’ but she doesn’t. Just looks at him angrily as color fills her face slowly. When he notices her blush, he’s suddenly too aware of their compromising position. He’s on top of her, pinning her down for god’s sake! All sorts of dirty thoughts rush into his mind and he tries his best to stave them off.

“Say uncle.” He grunts at her, a little desperate to end their spar so there’s not so much contact between them.

“You think this is all the fight I’ve got in me?” She challenges. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m just strategizing.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” He says, gaze once again drawn like a magnet down to her bare belly. “Losing is strategizing now?”

“Eyes up here, you slug.” She spits. But when Butch’s eyes snap back up to her face, he finds her pointedly looking at his newly exposed abs, herself.

He can’t stop the rough chuckle that escapes his throat and asks, “enjoying the view?”

Buttercup at least has the good sense to look embarrassed by him catching her wandering eye, but it lasts less than a second. “I’ve seen better.” She shrugs. Or tries to, since her arms are above her head with her hands still pinned to the ground.

A growl forces its way past Butch’s throat at the thought of her looking at anyone else how she’s looking at him, and he sneers. “Bullshit. Just admit that I’m a wet dream.”

Her eyes finally make contact with his and his heart jumps into his throat. He sees want written on her face, deep into the bright green of her eyes and the slack of her parted lips.

“You’re a wet dream.” She murmurs with lidded eyes and Butch’s brain shuts off. He automatically releases her wrists and backs off of her, suddenly aware of the blood pumping into his dick at full force. He moves his knees up in a way that hopefully distracts from the boner he’s sporting as Buttercup sits up, massaging her wrists. They sit for long moments, slowly coming back to themselves, trying to understand what just took place between them. Their teasing and flirting was all fun and games until she looked at him like that and he now feels raw and vulnerable. He feels wrong for pushing her down and forcing that admission out of her. He has no idea what to make of what just happened.

After a long while he looks down at his shirt and chuckles. When she looks over, expression utterly impassive Butch simply says, “I have no idea how you ripped this shirt so evenly. The fibers don’t even run that way.”

Her gaze flickers to his abdomen again, the shirt just covers his chest, baring the majority of his ribs, stomach and abs. She slowly grins, though it looks a little forced and says, “One of the lesser known superpowers of chemical X.”

He finally lets out a laugh, finally feels some of the tension diffuse and says, “I might just keep this shirt anyway.”

“Yeah, Mitch thought it was hot. You might get some from him.” And her eyes are finally full of the mirth they held when they had come bursting out of the double doors at the side of the building just 10 minutes earlier.

“And we match.” He points between their shirts and Buttercup snorts and it might be the most relieving sound he’s ever heard, because he knows it is genuine. The lunch bell rings and Butch stands up, holding his hand out to her. She grabs it and even though his heart gives a little at the contact as he helps pull her up, he ignores it, focusing on his best friend. Focusing on not harming the beautiful friendship between them. He desperately wants to hug her, to beg her to promise him that nothing has changed because of this but he can’t do it. It feels madly insecure, and he’s a better green than that. So, he just plucks a clump of grass off her hair and tosses it over his shoulder as they head back inside. He assures himself that this isn’t something to worry about and that he can fix whatever this was. They’ll bounce back from this no problem. They’re greens after all.


	4. Chapter 4

The greens aren’t like the other puffs and ruffs. Which is exactly why Butch is trying to get a date with someone who is definitely not Buttercup. He can’t continue to slowly destroy their friendship the way he has been lately. Buttercup is his bro and he’s not gonna compromise their kick ass dynamic with something as stupid as catching feelings. So, he asks out Robin for a date on Friday. It’s really not hard. Robin is sweet and easy on the eyes. So what if she can’t kick his ass into next week? That’s something you look for in a bro, not a girlfriend. He tells himself that it’s his civic duty to date someone who’s not Buttercup, as a green. So Robin it is.

Except that when he talks to her, she mostly just smiles and responds, or laughs. She doesn’t tease him back and she doesn’t give him a piece of her mind or threaten him with bodily harm for getting fresh with her. The one time he made a joke about her body she just said, “you’re silly” and awkwardly giggled at him, cheeks tinging pink. It was… boring. And that’s all Butch can think of when he interacts with her. She’s boring. Sure, she likes art and dancing, but where is the excitement? Where is the fun? They’re sitting next to each other at lunch today and Buttercup is uncharacteristically quiet across the table. Robin is talking about her pre-calculus homework that she doesn’t get and Butch is _bored_. God, he’s almost bored to tears. He wants to do something stupid just for the hell of it, like pull her bra strap until it thwaps against her skin, but refrains. He needs to get through at least one date with her before pushing her away with his assholery. For his sake. For the greens’ sake. But he can’t take any more of this conversation, so he puts his hand on her shoulder and says, “so where do you wanna go tonight?”

Robin’s eyes light up with anticipation and Butch almost feels bad at how bored he is with her in the face of her excessive enthusiasm. “We can go wherever, Butch.” She says sweetly smiling at him. Her willingness to please him sours his insides, and he can’t believe she’s so plain and boring. But he tests just how willing she is to do what he wants.

“So you’d be cool with the arcade?” He asks, thinking of where he likes to go hang out with his bros. As Robin considers her answer Butch starts toying with the hem of her shirt. He hears a sudden intake of breath across from him and ignores it.

“Sure, I love arcades.” She responds indulgently.

“What about watching a scary movie?” He’s aware this is Buttercup’s favorite genre and that most of the girls he knows do not like horror as he asks the question. Butch can’t help but glance at Buttercup and she’s glaring at her sloppy joe like it’s killed her sisters. Which it hasn’t, because they’re right there at the table too, watching Butch and Robin like hawks.

“Can I hold on to you if I get scared?” She asks with an almost not-boring blush on her cheeks. Butch is so over this date already and it hasn’t even begun. He eyes his fingers dancing around the hem of Robin’s collar and just wants to see how she’ll react if he pushes her a little. She’s wearing a regular t-shirt and he’s interested in what how she might respond to his touch, so he casually slips the tips of his fingers under her collar to caress her neck, and the blush already on her cheeks deepens to crimson. It really makes the blue of her eyes stand out, but Butch is more a fan of green himself, he thinks vaguely.

“Sure, I’ll protect you” he flirts, and for once he feels confident and smooth which is an attitude he misses sorely when interacting with Buttercup. He’s thinking it’s kind of nice to not give a shit about Robin because he can be so blasé with her when Buttercup stands up at lightning speeds, upending her lunch tray into Butch’s chest and lap. His shirt is suddenly full up of sloppy joe. His 2nd favorite shirt. He’s fucking had it. He jumps up too and shouts, “what the _fuck_ is your problem?!”

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” Buttercup is seething, and why? She’s not the one with a shirt full of sloppy joe! “Here let me help you out with that–“

She grabs a bunch of his shirt with her fist and smears the slop (or maybe the joe?) all around and into the fabric. The shirt is ruined. His 2nd favorite shirt. God, he wants to punch the shit out of her, what is her fucking damage?!

“Can you grow the fuck up?” He bellows at her. “Not everyone’s a fucking virgin like you Buttercup, why don’t you go get laid so someone can replace that stick up your ass with a d–“

He’s tackled to the ground and Buttercup is wailing punches into his face, his chest, his ribs, and he can’t get a hit in edgewise. She’s moving so fucking fast, he can only take the beating she’s dishing out with apocalyptic fury and power. Finally, she pauses and Butch thinks it’s over when WHAM she slams a fist into his dick and then stands up. Butch howls in pain as she storms away. Blossom and Buttercup run off after her as Robin stares at the entire scene, horror struck. Boomer and Brick both look at him sympathetically and shake their heads. Brick leans over and simply says, “You should’ve seen that coming.”

And why? Why the fuck should Butch have seen that coming? That his best friend would just have a psychotic break over lunch, ruin his shirt, beat him to shit and punch him in the nuts? How on earth could he have possibly seen that coming? He glares at Brick darkly, as he slowly sits up. Robin hands him all of the napkins she was able to gather off the table so he can get the excess joe (or maybe the slop) off of his shirt. Robin, for her part, looks upset at him too and now Butch is really mad because what the _fuck_ is _she_ upset for?

“You shouldn’t have asked me out if you had a thing with Buttercup, you know,” She says looking at his shirt rather than his face. Her cheeks are flushed again and Butch is bored with that blush too, he realizes. Robin plows onwards, “she’s my friend.”

“I didn’t have a _thing_ with Buttercup! I don’t know what the fuck just happened. There’s no _thing_! We’re supposed to be best friends, she’s supposed to be a _bro_. I don’t know what bug crawled up her ass–“

“Well maybe you shouldn’t flaunt a date around when you know she has feelings for you!” Robin says hotly, and Butch’s brain blanks out.

“She doesn’t– Buttercup doesn’t have feelings. I mean not for me, I mean she’s _got_ feelings, but she doesn’t– not for _me,_ that doesn’t make any sense!” He looks between Brick, Boomer and Robin who all have pity in their eyes for him. “I mean… she’s a green. We’re not… like that…” He finishes lamely. Boomer pats him on the head sympathetically.

“Hey Butch,” Robin says softly. “Just because you’re greens doesn’t mean you can’t like each other.”

Well fuck. That can’t be right can it? Butch and Buttercup’s entire relationship so far has been based off of their bonding as bros because they’re greens. Greens play rougher and fight harder, they’re hot heads who’d rather speak through their actions than words. They like the same stuff and want the same things. But Butch has never thought of her as more than a bro. Until recently anyway, with invasive thoughts like licking into the hollow of her neck or curling his hand around her waist running amok in his mind. But Buttercup doesn’t feel the same way, he thinks. She’s always told him they’re bros and friends and has been glad to avoid the sappy relationships of their siblings. She’s never asked anything more of him. She’s never cared to even mention anything like that… Except for last weekend when she had asked him those questions about Brick and Blossom and Bubbles and Boomer. Asking if he ever thought about them like the blues and the reds…

Butch comes to the sudden realization that he may be an utter idiot. He looks to his brothers and Robin a little helplessly but then Robin smiles and says, “you should talk to her about it.”

Butch balks at the idea of facing Buttercup after the fiasco that just took place. He is also terribly aware of how bad he is with words, especially when they count the most. He looks miserably at the wreckage of his 2nd favorite shirt and says, “yeah, maybe I should.”


	5. Chapter 5

The greens aren’t like the other puffs and ruffs. _But maybe they should be_ , Butch thinks contrarily. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with wanting his bro to become… more than just a bro. Butch craves her smiles, her affection, her touch. He definitely doesn’t want that from any of his other friends. And he doesn’t want it from any other girl either. Just Buttercup. When he really thinks about it, he’s never thought or felt that for any person except Buttercup. And when he’s honest with himself he knows he’ll only drive himself to an early death if he continues to ignore this feeling. Whether by his own insanity or her violent responses to his mixed signals.

Butch knows he has to talk to her or find some way to clear the air. But she’s been avoiding him like the plague since last Friday when she punched 3 years off his life expectancy after feeding his shirt her sloppy joe. She’d traded seats with someone in the front of class in English and moved to another table in Chemistry. She’d started sitting with her teammates from soccer at lunch. And every time Butch tried to approach her he found himself completely alone or sporting various injuries and completely alone. He’s really at the end of his rope and on the verge of doing something stupid at this point, because he’s Butch and a green and that’s what greens do but nothing seems right to get Buttercup’s attention.

This is exactly why he finds himself in Robin’s company once more, asking for advice on the greens’ situation. Sure, he finds her incredibly _boring,_ but she gave him good advice last week after the cafeteria incident so he’s hoping maybe she’ll give him some other golden nugget of guidance. She sits across from him in the currently abandoned band room while Butch twiddles with whatever instruments have been left around during lunch. As he narrowly stops himself from blowing into a trombone for shits and giggles ( _germs, Butch, germs_ ) Robin asks, “so why am I here?”

Butch twiddles with the slide for a minute before responding. “I… don’t know how to talk…”

“You seem to be doing an okay job of it so far.”

“I don’t know how to talk to Buttercup alright! I have these feelings, and last week you said I should tell her but I don’t know _how_ , I just… need some help?” He finishes rather lamely, making a request rather than a demand as he is wont to do.

“Okay…” Robin looks at him thoughtfully and her gaze is so penetrating that Butch is almost reminded of Buttercup for a second and takes a step back from her on instinct. “So how do you feel about her? Like, really?”

Butch pauses. He doesn’t want to explain this to Robin of all people, but he asked her for help so he kind of has to. He heaves a sigh and tries to explain. “It’s like… we were always buddies you know, we were _bros_. And our siblings didn’t always get along, but me and Butters we just had this understanding. We said it was because we’re greens and we get each other. Then Boomer and Bubbles started dating and we were like ‘ugh what the fuck’ and we’d always make fun of them and shit. But then Brick and Blossom kinda started dating too and that’s cool they’ve got their love-hate thing but we gave them a hard time about it too, just cause we’re greens. And now it’s like, like she comes to school in these fuckin’ crop tops and I can’t even fuckin’ think when I see her, I just wanna hold her or…” Butch wants to pull out his hair, this is too difficult to talk about.

He looks at Robin imploringly, hoping that she will get what he’s trying to say. And something must click because she nods thoughtfully and says, “I get it. I think you just need some practice on how to talk to her about it.”

Butch finally exhales, so glad that she gets it. He nods vigorously, “yeah I have _no idea_ how to talk to her.”

Robin thinks for a moment and then nods to herself like she’s made up her mind about something. “Okay,” she says. “Talk to me like I’m Buttercup and tell me what you want to tell her.”

Butch blanches. “No, I can’t– I can’t even come up with the words in my head, Robin, you think I’d be able to tell you?”

“You’re gonna have to talk at some point Butch. And knowing what you want to say is the first step. Just try it, I’m sure I’m not as scary.”

As much as Butch is loath to admit is, Robin does have a point. She is not nearly as scary as Buttercup. In fact, the only scary thing about this situation is Butch talking about… his feelings. Butch wars with himself internally, but he knows there’s only one outcome to this scenario that he will go with. He cares about Buttercup too much to fuck this up again. He nods, steeling himself for vulnerability and potential humiliation. Whatever. He’s a green.

“Okay…” He looks at Robin for a long moment and is shocked to notice that she seems a little bored with him for once. That takes the edge off for some reason, and Butch decides to just go for it. “Listen, when we hang out, I have so much more fun than I do with anyone else. You– you’re my buddy, but you’re not _just_ my buddy. You’re like, this cool, fun, fuckin’ sweet and bad-ass chick–“

Robin clears her throat reprimandingly, so Butch improvises with the vocabulary.

“Girl. Person. You’re just this bad-ass, amazing person and… and you… brighten up my fuckin’ life or whatever.” Butch’s voice tapers off as his face burns up at this admission. But he stares hard at the ground and finds he has to keep going, to fully explain what he feels, so he does. “And I like you. I don’t know if you feel that for me, but I wanna try… I wanna try to be more with you.”

Feeling a little relieved that he’s finally spoken his heart (but still very pink and embarrassed) Butch looks up at Robin only to find her mouth open in shock and staring at something– someone, behind him. Butch whips around to see, who else but Buttercup, standing in the doorway of the band room, looking strikingly more green in the face than he’s ever seen her. Even as a green.

Butch is suddenly very, very nauseated that she heard all of that. Or any of it for that matter. He watches her with the same fearful anxiety that one might watch a time bomb with.

Everything is very still for long moments and then Buttercup finally speaks in the most choked off voice he’s ever heard, “well. I’m clearly interrupting– that was a– nice. You both. Be. Happy–“

And then she turns and takes off down the hall, and for once Butch knows exactly what’s going on and goes after her to clear the air. He calls out for her to stop, to wait, but she keeps running out into the main hall, past the cafeteria and out the front doors of the school. He jumps and tackles her out of the air right when she’s about to fly off to god knows where and wrestles her into the grass again. She’s fighting him off, but blindly, none of her punches are landing, none of her hits hold any power, she’s just scrambling to get away from him.

“Buttercup, will you just listen to me?” He shouts while she writhes and bucks to get away from him.

“Let me go! I don’t wanna be here!” Her eyes are shut tightly while she tries to slap and bat him away from her.

“Just talk to me for a minute, Butters– just. Just LOOK AT ME!” He bellows, and finally calms the chaos enough for her to stop fighting him, but when she opens her eyes, Butch sees tears surrounding peridot irises and his heart stops.

“I don’t want to be here.” She says, voice heartbreakingly small. “Let me go.”

“No, Butters, I–“ Oh god, he has no idea what to say. She’s crying, his best friend is crying and he caused it, however unintentionally. He’s completely torn between comforting her and clearing the air. He just stares at her as one of her tears finally spills over onto her cheek. He can’t help himself when he reaches out to brush it away.

“I’m sorry, Buttercup.” He says, softly. “I’m sorry for everything. This and last week, and… everything.”

Buttercup sets her jaw against her quaking bottom lip and looks past Butch, up at the sky where she longs to be away from him. Then she headbutts him, forehead bashing into his jaw at inhuman speeds. She stands up and wipes her eyes while Butch is still reeling from the shock. Then she gets up to leave and grinds out, “it doesn’t fucking matter. You like who you like, you shouldn’t apologize.”

“No, you don’t get it–“ Butch reaches out to take her hand and she grabs him by the wrist and wrenches his arm over her shoulder, about to flip him over when Butch pushes out of her grip. “ENOUGH FIGHTING, will you just fucking TALK TO ME?”

Buttercup’s arms both drop to her sides, dumbfounded. Butch just told her… to stop fighting? The world must be ending, she thinks as she stares at him in shock.

“You– I have been _trying_ to– but you! You just hear 5 seconds, think that means me and Robin! Robin isn’t _jack shit_ to me! She was here for you!”

“What the fuck are you trying to say to me?” Buttercup asks, always one for bluntness.

“I _like_ you, you fuckin’ freak. _I_ like _you_. I was practicing what I was gonna say to you with Robin, that’s what you heard.” And Butch is glad that he’s so mad at her right now that he can’t think about what he’s admitting with no reservations. Otherwise, this would be so much more painfully awkward than it already is. “You think Robin _brightens up my life_?! You think I think _Robin_ is bad-ass and amazing? I’ve never looked twice at her! When! In all our years of life have you _ever_ seen me hanging out with Robin? You’re so fuckin’ dumb Buttercup–“

Buttercup punches Butch for his confessional insult while she processes this information. She’s completely dumbfounded by what he said to her. Then she crowds into his space and puts her hands on his shoulders, drawing them in towards his neck.

“You fuckin’ mean it?” She croaks.

“Yes, you nut job, I’d have to be insane to lie to you about this!”

Butch is about to go on, but then Buttercup’s lips are on his and they’re kissing and his mind is suddenly so blissfully empty. It’s just a simple slotting together of lips, very innocent, and yet when they break apart Butch is aware that his heart has dropped to somewhere near his large intestine. He circles his arms around her waist and pulls her close to kiss her again, and _oh_ this is so amazing. Her left hand grabs a fistful of his shirt while her right slides to the nape of his neck and holds him there. Butch’s arms tighten around her waist and she fits so perfectly in his grasp. When her tongue swipes across his lip and his mouth opens for her, Butch realizes he will confess a thousand times over in a thousand different ways just to kiss her again. He’s thinking that he could die happy in this moment when Buttercup pulls away. Her face is burning red, but she looks as dopily thrilled as Butch feels.

“I can’t believe we did this.” She says, breathless and elated.

“I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.” He responds, completely lost in her blazing green eyes once more. “You– you’re. Fucking amazing, Butters. So fuckin’ worth it.”

She chuckles breathlessly and takes hold of his hand with hers. She squeezes hard once, and he squeezes back. Then she looks up at him and falters.

“I’m… not good with words.” She mutters, and Butch’s heart drops. _Please_ , he thinks. _Please don’t take this back now_. “But I like you too. Let’s… try this.”

And she looks at him with so much hope and bright-eyed innocence in those eyes that Butch wants to pick her up and whirl her around in a circle. He won’t though, because she would absolutely beat him up for some lovey shit like that. And he would deserve it. He can’t help but pull her into a bone crushing hug though, because he’s a green. And greens speak through their actions.

“Yeah,” he says, as he breathes into her hair. “Yeah, let’s try this.” Then he looks down at his shirt, fabric all stretched out and ruined by the force that she was pulling at it while they kissed. “Dude!” He gapes. “You just ruined my _favorite_ shirt!”

The greens aren’t like the other puffs and ruffs. But they are a little bit. And that’s fine too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo that was it! What do you think?? Leave me comments and kudos if that's what you're into (I know I am *wink*)!
> 
> Also, seriously, if you haven't check out @leecheedoodles on instagram I'm literally in love with them and their PPGs/RRbs depictions!   
> This is what inspired the Buttercupsicle scene from Chapter 1: https://www.instagram.com/p/B9uHFNRBaiB/


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